Vr1 At- "r . mm 1 " y.y- - i The whole art op Government consists in the art of being honest. Jeffe rson. ftantbttctttt VOL. 10. Published by Theodore Schoch. TEBMS-Two dollars ner annum in advance Two dollars and a quarter, half yearly-ruid if uot paid before the end of j the year. Two dollars anu a nan. i nose wno receive tne papers byi carrier or stage'dnvers employed by the proprie mr. will be charged 37 1-2 cents, ner vnar. nrlra. No papew discontinued until ail arrearages are paid, except aillie opuuu ui mc xju.ii.ui. jETAdVcrtiseraents not exceeding one square (sixteen lines) wllllm inserted three weeks for one dollar, and twenty-five cents for every subsequent insertion. The charge for one and uiree insertions me same, a iiocrai uiscou v j cmj advertisers. . EPAll letters addressed to the Editor must be post-paid JOB PRIIVXf IVtt. Having general assortment of large, elegant, plain and orna- r0911lal Type, we are pnieu. t.u cacuuiu every r description of Cards Circulars, Bill Heads, Notes Blank Receipts, JUSTICES, LEGAL AND OTHER BLANKS, PAMPHLETS, &c. Printed with neatness and despatch, on reasonable terms AT THE OFFICE OF THE Jeffereoniati Republican. The Spells of Home. BV MRS. HEMANS. By the soft green light in the woody glade, On the banks of moss where thy childhood played; By the household tree through which thine eye First looked in love to the summer sky ; By the dewy gleam, by the very breath Of the primrose tufts in the grass beneath, Upon thy heart there is laid a spell Holy and precious oh ! guard it well ! By the sleepy ripple of the stream, Which has lulled thee into many a dream; By the shiver of the ivy leaves To the wind of morn, at thy ceasement eaves; By the bees' deep murmur in the limes ; By the music of the Sabbath chimes ; By every sound of thy native shade, Stronger and dearer the spell is made. By the gathering round the winter hearth, When twilight called unto household mirth ; By the fairy tale, or the legend old, In that ring of happy fares told ; By the quiet hour, when hearts unite In the parting prayer and the kind good night ; By the smilling eye and the loving tone, Over thy life has the spell been thrown. And bless that gift ! it hath gentle might, A guardian power and a guiding light ; It hath led the freeman forth to stand In the mountain battle of his land ; It hath brought the wanderer o'er the seas, To die on the hills of his own fresh breeze ; And back to the gates of his father's hall, It hath led the weeping prodigal. Yes ! when the heart in its pride would stray From the pure first loves of its youth away ; When the sullying breath of the world would come O'er the flowers it brought from its childhood's home Think then again of the woody glade, .And the sound by the rusting ivy made ; Think of the tree at thy fathers door, And the kindly spell shall have power once more Pre-Exisience. A queer old gentleman of our acquaintance fel into a speculation one day about the different creeds and shades of belief which have existed a various stages of the world's progress, and after mature deliberation, came to the conclusion tha the Pythagorian doctrine is not an irrational one 0ftr all Hp amued in this wise. The followers of Pvthagoras believed that the souls of all sorts o animals, while they take upon them new bodies at their death, retain, intheir state of transmigration many of the characteristics werewith they were dis tinguished in Iheir former shape, ihus : .ne rat which is caught gnawing into your premises, must probably, in his human shape, have been a House breaker; the cat, that spits, caterwauls andcratch- es, must have been a teimagant woman; and the ass that submits to the lash, and carries burdens, one o the subjects of a despotic government. So, again a dandy, who smells of musk, gives pretty good evidence of having formerly been a -pole-cat; a great talker, of having once been a parrot ; and a Jieen money-broker, of having prowled about seed ing whom and what he may devour, in the shape of a shark. This notion of Pythagoras might be carried out, and applied to the characters of the beings: around us, whether brute or human. Besides, to dp so, would afford work for the fancy, and excercise for the imagination. We could never, for instance, etumble over a fat porker, in the course of pur rambles, but we should forthwith think of an al derman. Every fly we beheld", foaming from one thing to another, and defiling whatover it touches, would remind us of a libertine- In every poor old horse, turned out on the highway to die, we hould imagine we saw a faithful public servent who has spent the prime of his life in the ser vice of his country, and is thrust out, at last, to perish with poverty and neglect. We,see strutting along, a magnificent rooster looking .as if he could crow as lustily as Chap man oyer a political victory. His feathers are tjleek and fine, presenting, as' he moves, various changeable tints. Near him are sundry femin Jne specimens of the. same genus, to whom he is showing his proud coat, and paying assiduous at tention. It requires no great stretch of imaginat ion to- faucy that he was some famous gallant, perhaps the Earl of Rochester or King George the Fo.urth, when a "biped without feathers." Just opposite, is a squad .of tjie .canine species., Aong the rest is a little dog, with his ears pricked up, and his tail cocked to the hightest point. He STRO DDSBURG, is bristling about, snarling at, and endeavoring to pick a quarrel with a larger animal, who seems to take no notice of him. Is it not extremelv Drotf- able that this troublesome whiffet was once a lit tle peppery assemblyman or Congressman, who was fond of attracting notice by assailing his bet ters ; and that the noble dog beside him was a member of the same body, but with too much sense and character to take nonce of him 1 There, too, is a smart, active little terrier, one who is death on rats, and such sorts of vermin. He is a keen fel low on the scent, and woe to them if they come within reach of his paw. When clad inhuman flesh, may he not have belonged to a race almost extinct, viz : an honest and vigilant thief-taker 1 Did you ever see a peacock in a farm yard? Bless our stars ! how he spreads himself. What pains he takes to exhibit his gay feathers. He is particularly fond of exhibiting himself to the peo ple ; and will 3trut, for half a day at a time, just in front of the house, where the inmates can not well help seeing him. In his former -state of ex istence, he must have been a beau of the first wa ter nothing less, perhaps, than an ancestor of r f x f Again dear reader, did you ever see an old hen that had but one chirk that was constantly toil ing, and clucking, and scratching, and making as much ado as if she had a large brood and all for ihe sake Of this single fledgeling ? This mat ronly old hen must have been some fond mother, who labored and bustled, day and night, to get together the wherewithal to support perhaps to Ul t I . supply the profligacy and dissipation of an only son, and a spendthrift. As it is curious, on the Pythagorean principle, to trace out the former condition of the various brute species, so it is no less amusing to consider in what shape the different individuals of the human race formerly appeared. A little way off is a lady of a fair extenoi. Her voice is soft and gentle ; her woids are smooth and flattering; and she seems to be angelic. But wait a minute. Something has crossed the gram, tier eyes begin to Hash her lace reddens Jerusalem ! what a fury she is in. She berates her husband and everybody about her, and seems now a very devil in petticoats. She must have been, fortnerlv, some sleek tabby-cat, who would pur, and pur, and pur around you, pleased with the hand that fed and stroked her; until chancing to rub the hair the wrong way, should suddenly fly in a rae, and spit, and scratch your eyes out. Here is a man who is exceedingly rough in all he does. If he is to embrace you, he will squeeze -the very breath out of your body. If he is to shake hangs, he will give you such a grip as to make you cry out with pain, and almost imagine that c tt -.1 yuur lingers are in a vice, ne never speaKS Wlin out a growl. In a word, whether in conversation or in action, he is ths very antipodes of politeness and consideration. It requires no stretch ol fan cy to presume that in his former state of existence, he was a bear. The traces of his origin still re main, like some Indian moulds or traditionary rel ics, remarkable for their distinctness. The ladies that flutter in the streets of populous cities, spending a great part of every fair day dis playing their beauties to the sun, and dazzling the eyes of beholders, must surely, in a former state, have been no other than gay butterflies, that spor ted for a summer's day and then disappeared from the world. The cunning speculator, who is ever busy in looking out for bargains, and constantly endeavor ing to overreach.others in the way of trade, what is he but some villainous old fox, who having cast his skin, still retains the principle characteristics whereby he was distinguished in his former shape? Slanderers, it is natural to suppose, were for merly toads, who, having ceased to spit their ven om in one way, have taken upon them the im proved method of venting it in another. False friends are but snakes, in a different dress; and many conquerors are tigers, delighting in bloodshed merely, for bloodshed's sake ; the same as they did when they had four legs. We might go on, ad libitum, to enumerate par allels ; but what have been instanced may serve to "show that they who denounce the doctrine of Pythagoras as ridiculous, ought not to be loo con fident in their own belief. Our present belief is, that, as the bell is ringing, we will close this chap ter, and go to dinner. Norristown Register, "Big Able" vs. " Little JJanhat tan." It would be dificult to find a more quiet, and reiired place than ihe Sulphur Springs at M . The Hotel is large and never uncomfortably crowded at ihe lime I wriie of, there may have been at the "Pavilion" a hundred persons, all told, principally ladies, and these ladies, ihough daughters of the frozen North, were themselves fair and warm as the summer sun. There was here none of the ridiculous for mality and enqueue of fashionable watering nlaces. We formed a rather extensive kind of "family circle," each and all feeling it both a duty and a pleasure to contribute their mile to tho fund of general amusement. I hero met young R , a lively and a most agreeable person, witiy and intelligent, but exceedingly slight, and of small stature, al most a dwarf, a real little pocket Adonis, and a most decided pel of the ladies, as was his nntithesisTom B , who siood six feet and I don't know how many inches in his stockings, abroad heavy, coarso bum fellow, strong as a lion, proud of his strength, which, with the ex ception of his good nature, was all that he had be proud of. R , of course, met no favor in his eyes, weak, small, aud delicate as he appearered. One evening, after supper the conversation turned on feats of strength ; Tom B held chairs out arms length, bent pokers over his arm, and' glorified himself and other Sampsons until he reached a pilch of genuine excitement. "Why Tom, quietly qbeerved K , "a great frame is not always indicaiivo of great streng'h, neither does a slight one indicate the reverse ; I am very small anrl slender, yet I will bet a supper and cahmpaign for the party, lhat lean carry you from the Pavilion lo. ihe Spring and back without puning you down." "Garry me i" "Yes J carry yau." "Nonsense ! my weight will crush ypti." , "WelJ, well, thst'i .ray look QU. Will ypu pel ihe. supper!" "SuDDer. ves. hliy supper : wot, ift? nfeerub. I weiih nearly two hunure.d MONROE COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, JULY 11, L850. pounds ; do you dare to think that you can cai ry me from this Pavilion to the Spring and bavk without pulling me down ?" "Thai is what I offer to. do, but you are- to use uo unfair means to prevent, no dragging of ihe legs or anything of that sort. "Of course not." " I am to carry you to the Spring and back without putting you down, that's the bet." " That's it, it is a bat, a nice investment for your surplus capital." All doubted R 'a ability to accomplish the feat, yet from his determined manner, some were induced lo back him ; still bets were freely offered ai two to one against him, Tom B. being ihe most extensive operator. It was an incident in the quiet routine of our household. The young gen'lemen told it to the young ladies, the young ladies thought it would be capital fun, but they were afraid poor dear little R. would strain himsnlf,. " R. says he will do it if he bursts a blood vessel." " Oh, shocking !" The excitement increases, and many pairs of gloves, handkerchiefs, and boquets, were staked on tho result. Next morning R. did not make his appearence at breakfast, and it was wispured that he had sat up all night ma king his will, and practising (he dumb-hells At length the clock strikes twelve, the hour appointed for ihe performance ; all is bustle, confusion, and excitement ; not only the Piaz zas and Balconies, but the entire road from ihe Pavilion lo the Spring was lined wiih ladies ; on every side their little sun-shades glanced in the sunbeams, and their summer scarfs waved the breeze. And now, amid the breathless silence, step forth from tho hall of iho Pavilion, the obser ved of all observers, the Dwarf and the Gtant. Expectation is on tip-toe, the exeitement h intense, when "suddenly the musical voice of R. breaking ihe solemn stillness, is heard lo Strip !" " What ?" says the Giant. " Strip !" repeated R , What do you mean V "Why, exactly what I say---strip, come, hurry don't disappoint the ladies." You don't mean undress ?" " Yes I do I wagered to carry you, you are heavy enough in all conscience. I'm not going lo burden myself with fifty pounds of clothing." " You don't pretend that you were to carry me without my clothes " almost shrieked the astonished Gtant. " I bet lhat I would carry you, and nothing else:--will you get ready !" " Sold, oh ! Jemima!" exclaimed Tom, and seizing R. by the waisiband of ihe trowsers, he rushed, amid ihe shouts of laughter and waving of handkerchiefs, into the bar-room, deposited R. uppon the counter, and ordered supper at nine precisely. A Story of Human Nature. There once lived in an obscure town iu Mas sachusetts, an old Indian woman. Somehow or other, the old woman had accumulated quite a little property. Yet she was an Indian, and was treated with cool contempt by her neigh bors. She had no seat at the social circle, received no attention from those around her, occupied a back pew in church, and down to ward the grave she travelled, without friend or comforter. Old Nance had but one relative living, that she knew of, and he, a wild, graceless son. He was the terror of the village, and spent his time in anything but a respectable way. At last, the vagabond so worried the forbearence of his old mother, that in a hasty moment she resolved to disinherit him and leave her money to the church. Accordingly she started for the house of one of the deacons, and made a clean breast of her troubles, and acquaiuted him with her determi nation. The deacon grew from a cool to a very amiable mood as she proceed, and at last, be came profuse in his expressious of gratitude. The will, through the agency of the deacon, was drawn, but the old woman feeling a little compunction, had a clause inserted which should make it void, provided the son would totally reform his habits. Secrecy was enjoned upon the deacon, who said nothing about it, except lo two or ihree friends, who of course spread it all over the village in the space df one day. But the change wrought in the situation of Old Nance was miraculous. Such a good old woman.' The nice bis from the best tables began to journey, under neat napkins, to, her humble abode. On a rainy S.ihuih, a carrige took her up at her door, and carried her to chim-h where she was kindly favored with a front pew, near the sneaker, and near the stove. Her praise was in everybody's mouth, and her tot tering form commanded respect everywhere. But she thrived remarkably under this treat ment and lived, and lived. In the meantime, the son was looked on with more than usual distrust, and the poor widow was deeply com miserated in, his disgraceful coiihb. Years passed away, and ihe kind attentions of friends were still continued to the widow, when, at last, she slept the sleep thai knows no waking. A large funeral, one of the largest the little vilfage had ever seen, attended her to her grave in the quiet churchyard. There were tears shed above her bier, aud penison breathed upon her memory. The funeral was pssl. 1 he deacon, the squire, and a number of vjllage notables were' gathered in her dwelling, and in one cprne sofj the room sot the sad and japiiurn son : Squire,' aid the decon, 4. believe there is a will.' ' Yes, there is a will.' . ! 'VV il you have the goodness to rearl it. The Will was' produced. All were silent. The will wa read, itf which all the widow V property was bequeathed lo the church. Ma ny an eye sought the face of ihe prodigal son, but saw no change in his stolidcature.t. When the reading was finished', ihe son arose and drawing a piece of paper from his" pocket enquired the date of Mhat ar will ? The date was stated, and handing the squire his paper, the portionless asked him lo read I 7 Alas ! ii was a will one day yonger than the other. The fond mother in her weakness had told the son what she had done, and he mana-ged-to have a will drawn tweniy-four hours af ter the previous one, in which he was ihe sole legatee. The assembled wisdom and disinterestedness of ihe village went home thinking, and ihn son had the satisfaction of knowing ihfit his mother' last days were het best days. Reader, this is not fiction. It n but an instance of ihe weak ness of our common natures, which in similar developments, come before us with humilia ting frequency, alike in the lowest and high est walks of life. Extraordinary Confession of Profes sor Webster, of the murder of Doc tor George Parkinau. Boston, July 2, 1850. At a meeting of ihe Council, this morning, the case of Professor Webster was refered to a com mittee. Before the committee, at 12 o'clock, appeared the Rev. Dr. Puinam, the spiritual adviser of the condemned, with a petition for a commutation of punishment, together with a confession that he killed Dr. Parkman. The Reverend gentleman prefaced the statement by a few remarks relative to the manner in which the confession was made to him. He sla ted that he had no previous acquaintanceship with Professor Webster, before being called to act in the capacity of his spirliual adviser. In the first few weeks of his visits, he sought no acknowledg ment of the prisoner. At length, on tbe 23d of May, he visited him in his cell, and demanded of of him, for his own well being, that he should tell the truth in regard to the matter, and he acceeded to the request, by making a statement, which was now submitted for the consideration of the Coun cil. It was in substance as follows : THE CONFESSION. On Tuesday, 20th of November, I sent the note to Dr. Parkman, which it appears, was carried by the boy, Maxwell. I handed it to Littlefield un sealed. It was to ask Dr. Parkman to call at my rooms, on Friday, the 23d, after my lecture. He had become, of late, very importunate for his pay. He had threatened me with a suit ; to put an of ficer in my house, and to drive me from my professor ship, if I did not pay him. The purport of my note was simply to ask the conference, I did not tell him, in it, what I could do, or what I had to say about the payment. I wished .to gain, for those few days, a release from his solicitations, to which I was liable every day on occasions, and in a manner very disagreeable and alarming, and also to avert for so long a lime, at least, the fulfilment of recent threats of severe measures. I did not expect to be able to pay him when Friday should arive. My purpose was, if he should accede to the proposed interview, to state to him my embar rassments and utier inability to pay him at pres ent to apologise for those things in my conduct which had offended him to throw myself upon his mercy to beg for further time and indulgence, for the sake of my family, if not for myself; and to make as good promises to him as I could have any hope of keeping.. I did not hear from him on that day, nor the next, (Wednesday,) but I found on Thursday he had been abroad in pur suit of me without fioding me. I imagined -he had forgotton the appoiniment, or else did not mean to wait for it. I feared he would come in upon me at my lecture hour, or while 1 was pre- paring my experiments for it; therefore I called at his home on that morning, (Friday,) between eight and nine o'clock, to remind him of my wish to see him at the College, at half-past one my lectures closing at one. I did not stop to talk with him, for I expected the conversation would be a long one, and I had my lectures to prepare for, for it was necessary for me to have my time, and, also, to keep my mind free from other exciteing mat- . t. It T ters. Dr. i'arkman agreed to can on me as i iuu posed. He came, accordingly, between half-past one and two o'clock, entering at the lecture room door. I was erigaged in removing some glases from my lecture room table, into ihe room in the rear, called the upper laboratory. He came rap idly down the step, and followed me into the labo- ratory. He immediately addressed me with great energy " Are you ready for me, sir 1 Have you got the money V I replied, "No, Dr Parkman ;" and 1 was then beginning to state my condition, and my appeal to him, but he would not listen to me, and interrupted me with much vehemence. He called me a scoundrel and liar, and went on heaping on me the most bitter taunts and appro brious epithets. While he was speaking, he drew a handful of papers from his pocket, and took from among them my two notes, and also an old letter from Hossack, written many years ago, congratu lating himj)n his success in getting me appointed Professor of Chemistry. " You see," he said, " 1 got you into your office, and now 1 will get you out of it." He put back into his pocket all "the papers except the letter and the notes. I cannot lell how long ihe torrent of threats and invectives contined, and I cannot recall to memory but a small portion of what he said ; at first, 1 Jept interpos ing, trying to pacify him, so that i might obtain the ohject for which I sought the interview, but 1 coqld not stop him, and aooq my own temper was up; I forgot everything, and felt nothing but the! No. 46. sting of his woids. 1 was exciled to the highest degree of passion, and while he was speaking and gesticulating in the most violent and menacing, manner, thrusting the letter and his fist into my face, in my fury I seized whatever thingas hand iest (it was a stick of wood,) and dealrrom an in stantaneous blow with all the force that passion could give iu I did not know, or think, or care, where I should hit him, nor how hard, nor what the effect would be. It was on the side of his' head, and there was nothing to break the force of the blow. He fell instantly upon the pavement.. There was no second blow ; he did not move. I stooped down over him, and he seemed to be lifeless- Blood flowed from his mouth, and I got a sponge and wiped it away. I got some ammonia and applied it to his nose, but without effect. Per haps I spent ten minutes in attempts to resuscitate him, but 1 found he was absolutely dead. In my horror and consternation, 1 ran instinctively to the doors and boiled them, the doors of the lecture room and of the laboratory below. And then, what was I to do?. It never occurred lo me to go out and declare what had been done, and obtain assistance. I saw nothing but the alternative of a successful movement and concealment of the bo dy on the one hand, and of infamy and destruction on the other. The first thing I did, as soon as I could do anything, was to draw the body into the private room adjoining, where 1 took off the clothes, and began putting thpm into the fire, which was burn ing in the upper laboratory. They were all con sumed there that afternoon, with papers, pocket book, and whatever they contained. I did noi ex amine the pockets, nor remove anything, except the waich. 1 saw that, or the chain of it. hanging out. I took it, and threw it over the bridge as I went to Cambridge. My next move was to get the body into the sink, which stands in the small private room ; by selling ihe body partially erect' against the corner, and by getting up into the sink myself, I succeeded in drawing it up there. It was entirely dismembered. It was quickly done, as a work of terrible and desperate necessity. The only instrument was the knife found by the officers, in the tea chest, which I kept for cutting corks. I made no use of the Turkish knife, as it was called at the trial. That had long been kept on my parlor mantlepiece in Cambridge, as a curious ornament. My daught ers frequently cleaned it; hence the marks of oil and whiting found on it. I had lately brought it into Boston to get the silver sheaih, repairedr While dismembering the body, a stream of Coch itua'te water was running through the sink, carry ing off the blood in a pipe that passed down through the lower laboratory. There must have been a leak in the pipe, for the ceiling below was stained immediately around it. There was a fire burning in the furnace of the lower laboratory. Littlefield was mistaken in thinking there had nev er been a fire there. He had probably never kin dled one, but I had done it myself several times. I had done it that day for the purpose of making oxygen gas. The head and viscera were put in to lhat-furnace that day, and the fuel heaped on. I did not examine at night to see to what degree they were consumed. Some of the extremities were put in there, I believe, on that day ; the pel vis, and some of the limbs perhaps, were all put under the lid of the lecture room table, iu what is called the well a deep sink lined with lead ; a stream of Cochituate was turned into it, and run ning through it all Friday night ; ihe thorax was put into a similar well, in ihe lower laborato ry, which I filled with water, and threw in a quan tity of potash, which I found there. This dispo tion of the remains was not changed till after the visit of the officers on Monday. When the body had been thus all disposed of, I cleared away all traces of what had been done. I think the stick with which the fatal blow had been struck proved to he a piere of the stump of a largo grape vine say two inches in diameter, and two feet long. It was one of several pieces which I had carried in from Cambridge long before, for the purpose of showing the effect of certain chemical fluids in coloring wood, by being absorbed into the pores. The grape vine, being a very porous wood, was well adapted to this purpose- Another longer stick had been used as intended, and exhibited to the students. This one had not been used. I put it into the fire. I took up the two notes either. from the table or the floor. 1 think the table, rlose by where Dr. P. had fallen. I seized an old me tallic pen lying on the table, dashed it accross the fare and through the signatures, and put them in my pocket. I do not know why I did this rather than put them in the fire, for, I had not considered for a moment what effect either mode of dispose ingofihem would have on the mortgage, or my indebtedness to Dr. P. and the other persons in terested, and I had nol yet given a sinele thought, to the question as to what account 1 should givel of the object or result of my interview with Dr. Parkman. I never saw the sledge hammer spo ken of by Littlefield ; never knew of its existence, at least I have no recollection of it. 1 lef:4he College to go home, as late as six o'clock. I col- . lected myself as well as I could, that I might meetggi mv familv and others with composure. On Saturday,! visted my rooms at the college. but made no change m the disposition of the remains, and laid no plans as to my future course. On Sat urday evening, I read the noiice in the "Trnascripf respecting his disappearence. 1 was then deeply impressed with the necessity of immediately taking some ground as to the character of my interview' with Dr. P., for I saw it must become known that I had such an interview, as 1 had appointed it first by an unsealed note, on Tuesday, and on Friday had myself called at his house in .opefi day, and ratified the arrangement, and had theie been seen and had ptobably been overheard by the servant, and T knew not by how many persons.
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